


Ballad of the High One

by notupforpolo



Series: Trials of Voyage [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Historical Fantasy, Hurt Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Major Character Injury, Minecraft, No Slash, Pagan Gods, Platonic Relationships, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Semi-Realistic Minecraft, Swearing, The Current Lore of the Dream SMP Not Taken Into Account Because Children Should Not Fight Wars, Three Friends on a Trip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notupforpolo/pseuds/notupforpolo
Summary: They are travelling again. Yet again out on the road, passing through biome after biome, village after village. Conflict still lingers and tension is just underneath the surface as Dream, George and Sapnap leave summer behind and move towards winter.Sapnap still has hope for autumn.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Trials of Voyage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104872
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Trials of Voyage" but can be read as a stand alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to "Trials of Voyage" but can be read as a stand alone.

Summer has always been Sapnap’s favourite season. It’s warm, light. It was more comfortable to travel during the summer months. You could sleep outside. You weren’t reliant on villages to decide your route. Even then, the villages were more welcome during the summer. They were happier to trade, easier to haggle with. The villagers would happily welcome you to their many festivals and celebrations. Vendors would give you a candied apple without a second thought. Sapnap found the summers more freeing. 

They had spent all of last winter in the valleys of the Badlands. Bad was an old friend of theirs. So was Skeppy, Ant, and Sam. It had been wonderful. During spring, they had passed through L’Manberg on multiple occasions. Dream knew Techno, George had some family close by. They had met many new friends and had been saddened when they finally left the area. During summer, they had only set foot in a handful of villages. The summer months had only been the three of them. They had travelled through forest after forest, surrounded by freedom. Sapnap had to wonder how animosity could have been built up during summer. 

George had been right. They had made it to the village by three and stayed for a week. It had been good for all of them. To stay away from each other and to do other things, in the company of others. Sapnap had spoken to both of them individually, Dream and George had spoken alone, and the three of them had discussed things together. Communication is key, right?

In the end, things did get better. Sapnap noticed how George was smiling more often. Dream would ask for advice and stick to the ground when they were travelling around. Sapnap himself was happier, more open. He had come up with the idea to travel back to the Badlands, to spend this entire winter there too. The trip would take a month and a half. George claimed they would arrive just before the cold hit. Sapnap and Dream argued they would arrive just after the fact. 

Autumn was never credited for bringing life. But for things to start anew, they had to be broken down first. Sapnap had hoped this would ring true for his friends too. He had always liked summer, but he would give autumn a chance.

Thankfully, the village they stayed at housed a Cartographer. He had been a rude and greedy old man, asking for eleven emeralds instead of the average of seven. George had tried to haggle but had been unsuccessful. With every attempt, the Cartographers tone had gotten more and more condescending. Talking as one would with a child. It hadn’t been made easier by George’s accent. L’Manberg wasn’t at war anymore, but the dislike of their rather trigger happy politics was common in smaller villages. Especially those in the land of SMP. However, after the Cartographer had scoffed at Sapnap’s temper and laughed out loud at Dream’s rather drastic changes in price, George was the only viable option. They purchased an updated map for eleven emeralds. Things were going according to plan. 

The first and second night after leaving the village had gone well. The third day had brought along some winds and light drizzles and the fourth mourning was marked by thick fog. The fourth night had brought along rain. Cold and harsh rain. The droplets were big enough to ruin the flowers, and make the thirstiest of animals cower. Dream was the only one of them who liked the rain. Sapnap and George despised it. None of them liked the darkness, and Sapnap didn’t like the bone-chilling cold that came along with it.

Caves were godsent when the rain was heavy. George placed some torches, Sapnap started a proper fire, and Dream went to assess how big the cave was. Very soon, he was back.

“It’s a dead-end after the left-turn. If we block the entrance we won't have to worry about any mobs.” He was relaxed, putting his axe and shield down against the stone. Along with the other two, he began pulling out his sleeping bag. They were a pain to carry around but the fur lining the inside was heavenly. The three spread out around the fire. Close enough to keep warm, but careful not to touch each other. Not everything was mended just yet. Dream carefully loosened the clasp at the back of his head. His white mask slid down. He grabbed it and placed it in a pocket of his sleeping bag. George pulled out some bread and beef he had bought and passed some pieces out to the other men. They had their own waterskins filled with fresh water.

“Tell us a story Gogy,” laughed Sapnap. The food and warmth had lightened the mood. Sapnap was almost jumping in his seat. This was the best atmosphere there had been for a long time. “For old times sake.”

“Yeah, Georgie. Tell us something about the gods again.” Dream was less enthusiastic, but safety was a nice feeling. Safe and sound, he mused, as George readied himself. 

“I will tell a funny story. My– my father used to tell me this story.” He cleared his throat, leaned forward, and began.

“There was once this giant named Thjazi. He had a daughter named Skadi. Skadi lived in the most northern mountains and had a proclivity for skiing. Once, after being out skiing in the mountains, when she returned home she made a horrible discovery. Her father, the giant Thjazi, had been killed by the gods.” 

“Dude, the gods kind of suck,” exclaimed Sapnap. George had told both of his fellow travellers many times that the gods were grey. In his youth, the stories had always been that of heroes. At some point, he had gotten tired of it. He sought out other stories. That of gods lesser-known. The tales where one would mistake Thor’s actions for Loki’s. Those were his favourite. 

“Don’t interrupt him.” Even as Dream said it, he had a grin on his face. 

“I do what I want.” Sapnap threw a pebble at him

“You were the one to ask for a story,” cried Dream in fake resentment.

“Do you want me to tell a story or what?” Both of them stopped and turned their focus back at George. His smile was more subdued but ever so present. His voice had life in it, something that had been missing for some time. 

“Craving vengeance for her beloved father, she travelled to Asgard,” he continued. Dream lied down on his sleeping bag, closing his eyes. Sapnap was looking intently at George. Following every movement the storyteller made. 

“She demanded compensation and the gods told her she could ask for anything. After some contemplation, she asked for a husband. She was to marry one of the gods as payment.” George made a dramatic pause. He both gained some momentum and checked to see Sapnap’s reaction. The youngest was almost holding his breath. “The gods said yes.”

“As they were in a very joyous mood, they even made a game of it. Many of the gods were already married, but the bachelors were put but behind a curtain, with only their feet visible. Skadi wished to marry Baldr, and since he was the most beautiful of all the gods, chose the most beautiful feet.” Dream let out a soft laugh at the last sentence. The small acknowledgement made George even more invested. His smile bled into his voice. 

“Instead, she had chosen Njord. Njord was the god of prosperity at sea and therefore lived close to it. Skadi was devastated as it was not Baldr. To cheer her up, Odin threw Thjazi’s eyes into the sky, creating two stars.”

“Again with the star thing,” whispered Dream. Sapnap shushed him quickly.

“Loki offered to play tug of war with his goat. Skadi began laughing at this. Sadly, Skadi’s and Njords marriage was not as happy. Skadi moved to the sea with her new husband but despised it. They tried to live in the mountains, but he hated it. After trying for some time to live for nine days by the sea, and nine days in the mountains, they separated. Living as they found ideal, on their own.” The closer George got to the end, he lowered his voice. Portraying a degree of sadness to match the tale. When he finished he sighed and quickly thereafter chuckled.

Dream scowled, though the others couldn’t see it. “I don’t know if that was a very happy story.” He sat himself up, leaning on the cave wall. “The feet thing was kinda funny. But the ending was sad.”

“It’s not meant to be.” George looked up but was met with stone. Instead, he followed the sparks the fire emitted with his gaze. “it’s rather unlucky that they didn’t have a happy marriage, but it’s not a sad story. They were happy by the end of it. Skadi got to live on her mountain, and Njord by the sea.”

Dream looked as he thought about what George had said. His scowl lessened into more of a frown. He shrugged his shoulders after some time. 

“What’s with body parts turning into stars. That’s not realistic.” Sapnap was frowning too, but more in confusion. 

“It’s a story.”

“Yeah, I know. But last time it was a thumb–”

“Toe,” corrected George.

“–a toe that turned into a star. And that was also a dad giant.”

This time, Dream was the one to correct him. “Wasn’t it, like, Thor’s friend or something?”

George was laughing earnestly. He knew these stories by heart, so listening to his best friends trying to piece things together step by step was amusing. He was pretty sure he had even told the story of Skadi and Njord to them before. He drifted off into his own world as the familiar bickering continued. Stories of gods and stars floating around in his mind. They were close at hand. Memories of sitting curled up in the village library with heavy books with poems in foreign metres and forgotten words. He remembered sitting in his bed. A soothing voice telling him of stars and planets.

George didn’t notice how the bickering quieted down. His mind only taking note of the sounds of nature. Sapnap glanced at George. He and Dream had collectively said his name at least seven times and gotten no response. The smile was slowly fading from Dream’s face. Step by step, replaced by thinly veiled frustration.

Knowing where this could lead, Sapnap took charge. He poked Geroge’s shoulder. George jumped. He turned towards Sapnap and put a hand on his sword all in one motion. When he was met only by his friends, he released it. Feeling both of their gaze fixed on him, he made a sound of affirmation. 

“We were talking about a route,” said Sapnap. His smile was more forced. His body was just a tad rigid. 

“We already know it, though. We said we were taking the longer one to skip as much mountain as possible?” They had already discussed this, as George recalled. 

“Yeah. But I think we should try to stay in this oak and birch forest for as long as possible. I was thinking about it yesterday when the drizzle started. We risk going unprotected if we take the route straight north-east,” explained Dream calmly. 

“There are no villages in these forests. The spruce forest may be more exposed, but there are so many more villages. Same goes for the tundra,” reasoned Sapnap. Unconsciously, he leaned back, increasing the distance between him and the other men. 

“Even though I don’t believe the cold will be here as early as you two think, we do want to get there as early as possible.” George looked intently at Dream, “I say we vote.”

Dream’s mouth fell open. “What! No.”

“No, Gogy has a point. It’s only fair. I say we vote, too.”

George smirked and Sapnap smiled. Dream looked at them in despair. 

“Technically, you guys just voted to vote so what’s the point if I even say no.” 

When Sapnap did call for his and Georges preposition, Dream raised his hand in defeat. 

“So. Two weeks in the forest so that Dreamy can play king of the jungle,” concluded Sapnap. George let out a laugh and Dream gave a mocking smile. “Then,” he continued, “it’s going to take three weeks before we get to the mountain. The first week is going to be spruce and then the rest tundra and spruce in clusters. That sounds like a good plan to me!” Sapnap raised his hand in the air in a silent cheer. He pulled out the map they had bought and started to inspect it. Before long though, he handed it to George. ”Know your strengths,” he murmured.

“We are going to have to buy a new map,” said George after having inspected the one he was holding. “This one is quite small. It only shows half of the way.”

Standing up, he grabbed their pickaxe and walked deeper into the cave. When he saw the coal in the wall, he brought the pickaxe up and swung it. Hitting the ore just right. A lump fell down and hit the floor. He bent over, grabbed it, and walked back over to the fire. He clumsily sat himself down in the same position as before. Hunched over the map, but this time with the lump of coal ready in his hand. The coal was brought down onto the coarse paper and began making several lines and circles. 

As George continued working, Dream pulled out his axe and a small grindstone. Making sure his weapon was the best it could be. Sapnap threw a log onto the fire. None of them was particularly fond of darkness. Sapnap was going to make sure none fell over them.

Sapnap had hope for autumn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thanks for reading.  
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> I am planing on updating this every Tuesday and I have the first four chapter pre-written so expect that for at least the first five. Also, I have made my own lore out of the events on the Dream SMP, so you'll probably recognise it when it comes to world building. I have mostly just messed with the timeline and what characters were involved. Also, there is going to be some norse mythology in almost every chapter, because I'm tired of the greeks. They've had their moment (and we get it, Techno).
> 
> Thanks again!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A river must be crossed as they make their way north, and one of them has an interesting idea. When they have made camp, George tells another story.

The rain had subsided when the morning came. The temperature had been somewhat warmer. The clouds were still hanging overhead. They were grey, a colour many found depressing, yet grey clouds offered protection. All year round, clouds were protectors. They protected the creatures of earth from the sun and the cold, all at the same time. One could argue that they covered up beauty when they offered the most security. Nature was willing to pay the price if allure in exchange for harmony. The night sky concealed and not even a ray of sun shining on the land. 

Just over a week after leaving the village the clouds parted. Travelling so far that the sky was a clear blue and the sun radiant. George was ecstatic at the prospect of a starry night. Sapnap pulled his clothes tighter. Dream wasn’t faced. He still flew forwards up in the forests, no matter the weather.

That was very much evident when the three men stood on one side of the river. One of them up in the trees, two of them on the bank. For almost a hundred and fifty blocks they had been following the river upstream. Trying to find the most narrow section, the easiest to cross. Dream scouting from up above when he could. Every now and then he would make them stop. Dropping his pack and climbing up. The vantage point of higher ground saved them from walking too long of a distance. Yet, they had to cross the river somewhere. 

In a peculiar turn of fate, there had been no fallen logs. Riverbend after Riverbend had revealed only open water. After the aforementioned amount of blocks, George put a stop to it. He had stopped in his tracks, turning towards the river and said enough. Sapnap had gotten angry. George had given him nothing. He had stood still and listened as Sapnap chewed him out. But just like the fire he adored so– when nothing was fed to it, the flames would die. 

Dream was sitting contently in a large, old oak tree. The water had eroded a part of the ground the tree stood on, making it lean over the river. Roots holding on to ground they could find. The odds were against them, but they didn’t budge. The oak still stood proud. He watched the squabble from above, paying them no attention. Instead, he was exploring the branches. The roots may have been steady, but branches were the first to fall. 

Experimentally, he climbed on branch after branch. He carefully walked further out on the ones who would carry him. When he felt them budge, he moved back towards the stem. No branches were to break because of his impatience. Some bark fell from underneath his feet. Leaves would get stuck in his clothes now and then. Yet he did not let branches break and plummet. He focused on the branches that grew low above the river. He thought of it as a puzzle he was to solve. 

The argument began to subside, George and Sapnap instead turning to their own puzzle. They were trying to build the same picture as Dream, but the pieces were distinctly different.

Soon Dream found a branch that would carry him far enough. It was thick and wide, spreading out above a quarter of the way over the river. Carefully, but with determination, Dream backed to the body of the tree. He took long steps, counting two before he hit the stem. Before he could change his mind, he took charge and ran. 

He took one, two steps and then he leapt. The old oak shook because of the force. Reddening leaves falling softly towards the ground and bark raining down.

The air hit Dream’s face as he flew through the air. The ground was coming closer and closer. Dirt, roots, leaves, and pebbles all coming closer and closer to Dream as his surge upwards changed direction. The seconds that seemed to last forever were over and the balls of his feet hit the dirt. For a split second, he was standing. Then his momentum caught up with him and he fell forwards. His hands took the brunt of the force but when his knees collided with the dirt, roots, leaves, and pebbles he grunted.

“Dream!” came two panicked shrikes from the other side of the river. 

After a moment of silence, a laugh rang out. A hysterical and loud laugh that felt so very out of place in the forest yet so right next to the river. The laughter continued as Dream changed position. He turned so that he fell into his back when he let go. His back hitting dirt, roots, leaves, and pebbles without any harm done to anything. 

“Yes!” he screamed into the air only to immediately start laughing again.

“Dream!” bellowed Sapnap. This time, less panicked, angrier. “What the hell!”

“You could have died,” exclaimed George. He had run up to stand at the very edge of the river. Carefully keeping a watchful eye on the man as he rose to his feet. The front of his pants, as well as his gloves, were dirty. But George couldn’t see any injuries. Dream seemed to limp as he took his first step, but it wasn’t noticeable after the second. 

“I’m fine,” he laughed. His manic laughter had quieted, only chuckles remaining. “I’m high on adrenaline right now, but nothing is broken. I promise.”

“What the hell were you thinking. You could have broken something. You could have died. Dream you can’t fucking do that!” Sapnap was screaming again. His only motive for it wasn’t to just be heard. His heart was beating out of his chest. He felt the need to take deep breaths so that he wouldn’t topple over. 

“I’m fine. Look–” he turned around with his arms out “–I’m not hurt.” The smile under his mask was more compassionate this time. If the other men had been standing closer, they would have caught a glimpse of his expression. The porcelain mask was askew.

Sapnap took one last deep breath. His features turned from anxious to stubborn.

“Me and George are going to throw our stuff to you. You catch it and then we jump.”

Sapnap and George began with loosening their sleeping bags from the packs. Then, removing anything hanging loose. They removed the pickaxe off of George’s pack and the crossbow off of Dream’s. Sapnap and George both pulled their bows off their shoulders and bound them together. George closing his quiver and taking that off too. All of their shields were placed on top of each other. Dream’s axe was put next to Sapnap’s sword and shortly thereafter all their belongings laid in front of them.

They travelled light. That was a fact that they had always been proud of. Their only armour was one pair of leather shoulder pads each, fastened with two leather straps across their chests. They had one extra set of clothes each and shared tools, food and other trinkets among them. Two weapons and a shield each. Those items carried their individuality.

Everything they owned had soon been thrown over the river. Hardly five minutes after they had begun. 

George was the first of him and Sapnap to jump. Just like Dream had done, he walked several steps back. He took a deep breath and ran. He ran until the ground became unsteady and just before that he jumped. George didn’t just fly; George soared. His landing wasn’t as dramatic as Dream’s. He landed on his feet, but significantly closer to the edge. He didn’t dare to stay where he stood. He could feel the ground yield under him.  
Dream was there to catch him even though he didn’t fall. And after having seized hold of George, Dream made himself ready to catch Sapnap too. 

Sapnap was apprehensive. Bodies of water had never been something favourable to him. Just like rain, water was cold and dark. It surrounded you and made you helpless. Nevertheless, the dark was close by. The night was slowly but surely closing in and soon they would have to set up camp. Sapnap had never had a real choice in the first place. He would have had to jump even if it was mid-day. The mere prospect of saving himself from darkness beat out the fear of falling into the water. 

He didn’t take much charge. He simply jumped. Right as his body lost its connection to the ground he could see that he wasn’t going to make it. His jump was too short. The water was fast approaching. Sapnap closed his eyes. His right foot was touching land. His left foot was drenched in water. One pair of arms was taking a hold of his torso and another was pulling at his arm. In a panic, he opened his eyes to be met with a smiley mask. He was roughly pulled forwards and landed on something soft yet hard at the same time. He had landed on Dream.

Quickly, he rolled away from his friend. 

“Oh my gods, Sapnap!”

George ran up to him and kneeled down.

“That water is so cold. My foot is freezing.”

George huffed and stood up. He held out his hand for Sapnap to grab and the younger did so. With the help, he pulled himself to his feet and turned to Dream. The older man had also managed to get up from the ground. 

“Thanks, dude.”

“No problem.”

George had already begun collecting their things. Dream scratched at the back of his head and then moved to help him. Sapnap, at a loss, did the same. 

“Here,” said George and threw a flint and steel at him. “Go make a fire.”

Sapnap found some decently dry logs and twigs and put his skills to use. George and Dream had set up camp further away from the river. Laying out the sleeping bags and taking out the last of their bread and cheese. Soon they would need to start hunting for meat. 

When they sat down the night had come. Sapnap always slept the closest to the fire to avoid the darkness. Today, his left foot was the closest. His shoe and sock laying close by to dry. 

“Do you remember when you fell in when we were kids?”

Sapnap shifted his focus to Dream. “Huh?”

“When we were young – like really young – you and I were in the forest. Puffy was supposed to keep watch so that I wouldn’t sneak off but she was distracted with some other kids so I grabbed you and pulled you along to the forest. And we got to that little spring that was just before the edge. You were like five so you leaned forwards just a bit too much and all I heard was a splash because suddenly you were in the water! And you must have, like, cried really, really loud because Puffy and Alyssa came running towards us!” Dream was gesturing wildly as he told the story. 

Sapnap felt a memory awakening at the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite recall. He did vividly remember being watched over by Puffy and Alyssa. Alyssa more so than Puffy. Puffy had been a traveller just like Sapnap, Dream, and George. She would come and go, staying a few weeks at a time. 

Sapnap and Dream had lived together with Alyssa and their friend Callahan. For a couple of months in their early teen years. They had been making the best out of a less than ideal situation. When the revolution in L’Manberg turned violent, many adults in the kingdom of SMP had been called to be ready at the borders. The king had been worried that an attack would come, history suggested it. Sapnap and Dream had moved into Dream’s house without a second thought when both their parents' names were called by the royal informant. Barely a month later Alyssa’s parents had been forced to leave and Dream invited her to move in. It had only been naturally that Callahan would follow. 

“Maybe that’s where my fear of water comes from you dumbass.”

Dream laughed. “Yeah, right!”

“What about you Georgie. Got any fun stories to tell,” asked Sapnap.

George had his gaze turned to the stars.

“George.”

He looked down, rolling his neck.

“Huh?”

“Got any childhood stories?”

“No, not really.”

“You’re always so, like, secretive. You barely talk about things that happened before you moved to us. Give us something,” complained Dream. George and his parents had moved to their village sometime after the revolution. He never talked of it. He hadn't lived in the capital of L’Manberg where the most blood was shed, but something had happened to him. 

“I’m not very interesting,” answered George with a shrug. Sapnap booed at the eldest. 

“Fine,” sighed George. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dream grin as he removed his mask. Sapnap was bouncing. “Once when I was eight or nine me and my father climbed up this high hill. It was only a forty-minute trip from our house so we walked. It was during the summer, so we brought sleeping bags and dinner and all. We were going to spend the night and look at the stars.” Sapnap shivered. A novel warmth was spreading through him. This was a tender moment. The stars shining, the fire burning and all of the trees billowing in the wind quieting for George. 

“He was the one who told me about Tjatse’s eyes and Aurvandill’s toe. He also told me that the stars were made from the sparks of Muspellheim. I’d never been told that story before. He spoke so passionately about them. It was after that I began reading on my own.” His voice got quieter as he spoke, eyes yet again turning to the sky. 

Silence followed. The trees stilled as no wind was passing by. The flames had lost some of their intensity. Dream and Sapnap were shocked and satisfied. In all the years they had known him, this was one of the most personal memories George had shared with them. His love for the stars and tales was undeniable. A reason behind it had never been necessary.

“Do you have a favourite constellation?” Dream’s voice was soft. 

George though for some time. He reached out with his hand and pointed. Slowly, he moved his finger between starts in a pattern only he could see. He made six lines in a hexagonal shape. Dream and Sapnap saw nothing. The stars were splashed everywhere. No thought had been put into where the stars were placed. Unintended elegance found by man in nothing. But George knew. George saw past the charm. George saw so much more. 

“That’s my favourite. The Asar Battlefield. The scholars' opinions on what it depicts varies. I like to think it’s Ragnarok. The final battle of the gods.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm actually pretty happy with this chapter! Also, English is not my first language and I often mix up Thursday and Tuesday, so I wrote the wrong one in my last note. This work will update on TUESDAYS. 
> 
> Also also, I'm not used to writing fantasy so world building is not something I've had a lot of practice with. Please excuse any mistakes or things that seem wider that come along with it. Mostly it's just the same as minecraft except inventory, servers, and respawning does not exist. All mobs, potions, realms, and stuff do. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayymeow1)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the last days passing through the oak forest, a temple is found. Tensions create a spark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Minor physical violence

Temples were built for the many gods of the olden times. Temples of all sizes, some of them dedicated to the most insignificant of deities. The elderly cities all had magnificent builds in the centre. Towering over the inhabitants just like the gods would. Proud they would be the heart of the land. Citizens would pilgrimage just to catch a glimpse of that of which was considered holy. 

Villages by the sea would have temples built in honour of Njord and Aegir. Farmers would sacrifice their animals in hope of satisfying Freyr. Warriors would pray to Tyr before their battles. Kings would humbly ask Odin for guidance. Mothers would cry out for Idun to aid them. The gods had once been integral to life.

People had let them wither somewhere along the line. Temples stopped being built, and then those already standing fell into a state of disrepair. The annual sacrificial pig instead became a meal to honour the tradition. The warriors instead turned to their king. Times changed. Kingdoms fell, and new ones were built. 

Temples were never demolished. Villages and cities were torn down without a second thought. Temples were left as they were. The materials returned to nature. Even if the gods weren’t so great as the once had been they were still respected. Their stories were told with great care. Bards across the lands that had once been one assumed the torch of Bragi. Keeping up with the tradition as old as time and spreading their stories. 

The temple hidden deep in the woods was old. 

Three days away from the border of the spruce forest the three travellers stumbled upon it. Moss-covered dark wood holding up what was left of a roof. An entrance welcoming in tree branches and bushes sprouting out from the side. Many out of planking having endured hardships of weather had carvings in them. Intricate patterns of serpents and wolfs fused together with hammers and runes. Moss creeping into every crevice.

George ran his hand over the delicate wood. The moss had made it damp, so he was careful not to use too much force. Doing all in his power to preserve the art. Keeping one hand on the structure, he made his way around it. Watchful of sudden branches or protruding roots. Not every plank with carvings was eligible. Wood had eroded away here and there and made it a mere collection of lines. Somewhere in there were the missing words of a story George felt was familiar. His subconscious recognising a stream of events and trying to piece them together.

When the sound of concentrated force hitting wood met his ear George turned sharply. Keeping a hand on the wood, dragging it through the moss, he walked quickly towards his companions. When he turned the corner he saw the obvious source of the noise. Dream had his axe swung above his head. The head pointed to the remnants of a dead tree. When he hit the side the second and third time, it swayed, and on the fourth, it fell. 

With a loud thump, it hit the ground in front of the temple. An empty doorway now accepting them. 

Sapnap was the first to cross the threshold. Keeping his head down to not hit it, he walked through. His feet hit hardened dirt and rotten wood instead of stone as he had expected. George followed shortly behind and just after he was Dream. 

The interior was empty. A decayed statue carved out of wood stood at the front of the room. What was left barely depicted anything, much less a human being. Two broken benches decorated with an animal head at the back of the armrest were pushed against the two longer walls. In the middle of the room stood a flat stone. 

Sapnap went over to probe at the benches. Dream began walking around the four walls of the room, scrutinizing it. George felt drawn to the stone.

The rounded and sharps lines followed by dots made perfect sense to George. All children had to learn the old runes, otherwise enchanting would be a nightmare. Librarians did not have the time to help enchant every new sword, bow and pickaxe bought. 

“It’s a temple dedicated to Baldr,” he said after reading some of the words on the stone.

“Didn’t he die?” asked Sapnap from behind him. He’d lost interest in the furniture and chosen to instead read over George’s shoulder. The letters made sense to him, but some of the words were foreign. He was able to read most of it, however. Though it wasn’t very long. 

“He was shot,” answered Dream and George in unison. Dream all the way from the statue. 

“Baldr was the god of sun, purity, summer, and joy. He’s one of the most well-known gods and the tale of his one of the most famous. It’s said that Baldr's death was so tragic it brought along Ragnarok.”

“He was really pretty, right? Like he was a truly beautiful man? That’s like the two things I remember about him. He was pretty and he died,” said Sapnap. 

“There’s more to it, you idiot. His mother was worried because Baldr was having dreams of his own death. The mother, Frigg, went out to all beings in the world and made them promise to never harm Baldr. After everything had sworn on it, the gods used Baldr as a target for throwing projectiles,” told George. To demonstrate, he pretended to throw something at the statue where Dream was standing. Dream smoothly moved away on reflex.

“Loki, with malicious intent, disguised himself and went to ask Frigg if there was anything that could harm her son. As they had thought it was not able to harm, she had never made the mistletoe promise, she told the trickster god.” Dream smiled under his mask. He knew the story of Baldr. George told it frequently. Yet, Loki’s plan never bored Dream. Many things did, but this story didn’t. 

“Loki immediately went to search for it. And as soon as he had it, he made an arrow. To his luck, the gods were practising their aim just on that day. Loki gave his ill-fated arrow to the twin of Baldr, the blind Hodr. Hodr shot the arrow–” making movement to mimic that of aiming a bow and firing “–with Loki guiding his hands, and it killed Baldr in an instant. Hodr was killed by his many brothers for this crime. Loki then made it so Baldr could never be brought back to Asgard. He was the only being that would not weep for Baldr. The one thing the goddess of death, Hel, had asked was for everything to weep. Loki avoided capture for some time but his punishment was severe. He was tied down and a serpent was placed above him. The serpent's venom was to drip down on Loki’s face until Ragnarok came.”

George was absentmindedly stroking the stone. 

“You could be Baldr,” said Dream suddenly. He had been staring at George as he told the story. Inspecting his every move. “You are pretty and everyone likes you.”

Ironically, Sapnap was the first to react. Dream’s words registered in his ears before they registered in George’s. He put a calming hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“I’m sure–”

“Is that all you think of me?”

George shrugged away from Sapnap’s hands. His voice had the same empty quality it had had before things had gotten better. His entire body tensed up. Two pairs of eyes were focused on unforgiving porcelain. Sapnap was rigid. He made a small, jerky movement with his hand towards George. 

“Oh come on now, are you going to take offence to me comparing you to a story?” It sounded as if he wanted to laugh, but he was holding himself back. His hands moved along to portray his exasperation, like a tree following the direction of the wind. He shook his head. Sapnap’s face was turning sour. His mind reminding him mockingly of his belief things were better. George was cold. His face showed nothing, yet Sapnap could see everything. His borrow had fallen and the corner of his mouth was drawn marginally. Dream kept on antagonizing him. 

“Your mother was super over-protecting and you are known for being pretty. People are charmed by you. If it makes you feel better I'm sure they would cry a lot if you were mysteriously shot by a mistletoe. I’m sure your friends wouldn’t kill your brother if you had one,” he said. Sapnap’s heart stopped beating for a second.

“I can not believe you. Is what you told me at the village even true?” his voice turned mocking, “‘I’m so worried I’m going to cross the line one day. I’m going to say something I don’t mean and I am scared.’ Oh yeah, like you did with Tubbo?” The words left George’s mouth as a stream of consciousness rather than the chosen words. Never once did he stop to think. He let the words flow until they hit the spot he knew they soon would. His mocking and cold voice poking and prodding at Dream.

“George!” exclaimed Sapnap. He put his hand on George’s shoulder again. This time it was more violently shrugged off. Sapnap reached for George’s hand in lieu of a third attempt but never got there. Geroge took a steady step forward.

Dream stood rooted to the spot. 

“You have no idea what happened between me and Tubbo. But you don’t have to know because you have always been petty, haven’t you George? You always harbour everything so you can turn it into a weapon!” his voice becoming louder and louder with every word. He paraded over to the other two and pushed an accusing finger towards George. “You told Sapnap you were going to try but that was bull! You haven’t actually changed!”

“That’s so unfair. It’s not like you have been making any significant progress either. You have been the most hostile out of everyone!” countered George bitterly. 

Sapnap could hear a quiver in George’s voice

“At least I’m trying! When the discussion isn’t about you or one of your stories your head is in the stars. Maybe you should have stayed in L’Manberg library. Maybe Wilbur could have read to you like for father did!” shouted Dream in a frantic manner. 

Sapnap saw George’s eyes glaze over.

“Don’t talk about my father. That’s low even for you.” His statement was dripping with venom. 

“You get to bring up Tubbo but I can’t mention your dad?”

Sapnap felt George shaking. 

“Yes!”

Three things happened in quick succession. Dream brought up his arms and pushed George by his shoulders. George staggered backwards. Sapnap grabbed a hold of Dream.

The aftermath was blurry. George might have said something before he stormed out of the temple. If he had, no one remembered what. Sapnap swore that Dream hadn’t fought back in Sapnap’s embrace, but Dream told that he tried to get free. Sapnap secretly maintained that Dream had whispered something to him. Something muffled and quiet, probably not actually meant for anyone. One way or another the two of them had made their way out of the ruined structure too. Along the way, not too far, they had found George.

“Don’t talk about my family,” he said with his eyes turned straight forward. He didn’t have a physical mask like Dream. He put distance between himself and the other two and knew they didn’t know the truth. Prayed on the same ignorance that had humans believe stars are just pretty little things. 

“Yeah,” answered Dream from behind. Sapnap was reminded of summer again. 

Fate was a funny thing. Sapnap found himself thinking much of the time during their last days in the oak forest. They didn’t talk, and George was constantly a few steps ahead. So Sapnap’s mind drifted to the altercation time and time again. How cruel must faith have been for it to happen in the god of summer’s own temple? How close must she have been watching to mock him like this?

He found solace in the fact that their first stop in the coming biome was a village. Villages let them split up. They needed to purchase some supplies, and Sapnap hoped that their inn had room for them to stay in two separate rooms. The village was Sapnap’s only hope as he trudged next to Dream and his mask, watching the pickaxe sway from where it was hanging on George’s backpack.

Summer was losing out to autumn. Summer had proved to be something weak, he thought. There was still hope for autumn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading!
> 
> I am currently listening to "The Hobbit" so expect some more juicy world building in coming chapters. However, I am currently reading "The Bell Jar" and "1984" for school, so the angst also continues. It is an internal battle within me at all times, my love for realism era classical literature, romantic era classical literature and high fantasy. Next chapter did not become what I expected at all, so look froward to that. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayymeow1%22)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't talk after the fight, him and Dream. He can feel nothing but dislike, so he spends his day in the village alone.

After crossing the border to the spruce biome food became quicker to acquire. Red sweet berries littered the ground under the tall trees and salmon were everywhere in the rivers they crossed. Wolfpacks made it so that mutton was hard to come by, but the chicken population recovered quicker so meat wasn’t in short supply either. 

The snow had reached this part of the world during autumn. Cold covered it as a warning. The cold wasn’t unbearable. It had yet to even be a disturbance. Thus far it was just uncomfortable to travellers passing through, and a sign to collect the harvest for the inhabitants of the many villages. 

Spruce villages were smaller than in any other biome. Towns were rare, and often farther south. If they weren’t close to a river or the sea they could be found next to a mine. Farming was too unreliable in the region. Beetroot and pumpkin being the only foods that were sure to grow. No person could rely on the monetary gain of potential disaster, especially not during the cold winter. Therefore the populations of the villages were kept small. Though there were many of them. They were all within two days of travel by foot. 

Spruce forests were comfortable enough to travel through. They were less dense, providing a clearer view of the way. You were more likely to stumble upon small roads. It was harder to get lost or fail to follow the map.

The fir secreted a lovely aroma that encapsulated the entire forest. Every now and then the smell of smoke penetrating through. Orange foxes and red berries; brown pinecones and yellowing needles adding colour to the otherwise muted green of the ground. 

A day after leaving the oak and birch behind they arrived at the town in the evening. The first time in two weeks since they had slept in proper beds or talked to someone else not only in passing. The town’s inn was small, and the rooms barely fit more than a bed and a dresser, but it was more than enough. 

They bought three rooms for two nights. Nine emeralds paid upfront. They walked up the worn stairs in a row and before shutting their doors they made sure everyone knew what to buy. During spring they had spent a lot of their emeralds and during summer they had passed through very few villages. They had fifty-five emeralds after paying for their accommodation. Their rule was to have at the very least twenty emeralds to spare. They all gathered eleven emeralds to put in their pouches.

George was the first one up the next morning. He always woke early when they stayed the night in civilization. Something about being surrounded by other people made him both happy and scared. He liked others. He wasn’t fond of being alone. However, towns were full of foreign people. People he didn’t know were a different story altogether. They were unpredictable in a way not even nature was. 

The window in his room looked out over the town square. The familiar clang of the bell had not rung out, but George could see smoke come from the butchers’ and hear chatter floating in the air. He grabbed his bow and quiver and slung them over his shoulder. Making sure to keep the quiver closed. He had no intention of using it, he just needed to bring it over to the fletcher, his first stop. When he had grabbed his emeralds and the key to the room, he headed out. Creeping down the stairs and out the door. 

The people of the town glanced at his bow as he passed. A woman carrying an axe grabbing it a little harder. One man walked to the iron golem and pointed towards George. The iron golem didn’t seem to mind, however, as they instead turned the other way.

In no time he was at the fletchers workshop, as signalled by a wooden sign with a painted and carved homing arrow hanging above the door. He used his shoulder to push the heavy door open. The woman standing over a fletching table turned and looked up.

She was tall, wearing the fletcher’s cap over red hair pulled into a braid. Her gaze was piercing as it travelled from his face to his bow to his hands. She put down the arrowhead that she had been working on and made a gesture for George to come inside. He did so, letting the door fall shut behind him. 

“What can I help you with?” she asked in a confident voice. 

“I would like forty-eight regular arrows and a couple of bowstrings, please,” he answered in a friendly manner. To add to his persona, even more, he gave her an equally friendly smile and gestured to his back. 

She attentively followed his hand with her eyes and nodded. Her own hand was put up in George’s line of sight. She moved her index finger back and forwards. “A stack, huh? Let me see you bow, traveller.”

“Of course.” George bowed his head to pull it up and handed it towards the woman. She grabbed it and immediately ran her hand over the carvings. 

“What god is it for?” she asked as she turned it around. This time inspecting the spring and the flexibility. She then turned around and began pulling out arrows from a large quiver hanging on the wall.

“Oh! I almost forgot! Sixteen I need sixteen crossbow bolts as well. It’s got the same string as the bow. But, uh… it’s for Tyr.”

“Naturally,” she murmured and began picking sharp crossbow bolts from a box next to the arrows. “There were pretty. Did you carve them yourself? ‘Cause if that’s the case I would be impressed.”

George smiled sheepishly. “No. I just commissioned it. They were very good at their job.” He gave the fletcher an easy smile and nodded his head towards her. She huffed but a smile was growing on her face. 

“Easy there, traveller.”

She handed the bow back to him as well as the arrows and bolts bound into stacks. She then crouched down and opened the lowest drawer in the fletching table. A thick and pure white bowstring strung around a cylinder of wood was pulled out. 

“That’s three arms lengths of the same thickness as your old one. That will be eight emeralds for the arrows, bolts included, and one for the string. So a total of nine.”

The nine emeralds were handed over and Geroge gave the fletcher a last, charming smile. 

“Have a nice day,” he said cheerily, cheeking his pouch, with one foot already out the door.

“No one is going to trade with you. The Manberg regime and the revolution hit us in the north hard, and it’s getting closer to winter.”

“What?” asked George, confused by the sudden confession. The woman was staring him down.

“Just so you know. You seem to be a little short on emeralds.”

“I’m travelling with friends,” he said shortly, “But this isn’t L’Manberg territory. This SMP’s land.”

She laughed. It was short and ugly, completely different from the confidence and charisma from before. “I am very aware. The Arctic Commune is only two weeks of travel from here. Only two people are living there now, and they’re friendly enough, but before... The southerners have believed us to be traitors ever since.”

“Thank you,” said George. He nodded and stepped out the door. The fletcher was left behind, arrows and bolts safely in his satchel, and his bow and quiver back on his shoulder.

George had been born into a free L’Manberg. When he was five, the old president lost the election and a new, younger man rose to power. At the age of ten, George no longer lived in a democracy. Manburg was the new name. 

His family did not support the new regime. Although they did not turn outwardly violent until years later, there were always whispers. Whispers of people disappearing. Whispers of guards patrolling around known opposition's houses. Some things did change almost at once. Taxes were increased and the city became known as a hostile place. Supporters of the new regime were asked to preach about the new politics to their neighbours and they got paid when they signed their names on the registry of voters. A mass exodus of people to the L’Manbergian countryside followed. The villages became overcrowded and new ones were built in record time. Many of George’s friends in the city had gone into hiding. George moved to The Kingdom of SMP with his parents at sixteen. 

Manberg lasted fifteen years. The revolution had come four years after George left the country. hOne the tenth anniversary of Manberg the sitting government was stripped of all power. At twenty, George saw his country as a free one again. L’Manberg was yet again.

At twenty, George – along with the rest of the world – got to know about the Arctic Commune. It was a rather small piece L’Manberg territory in between The Badlands and the most northern parts of SMP. Manberg had used it as a prison to house political prisoners for close to twelve years. They hadn’t been under lock and key, however. Guards were only stationed at the borders. The prisoners had been left to survive on their own, and they had built a commune.

When George, Dream and Sapnap had set out on their great trip through the lands they had passed it on the way to the Badlands. Sapnap and Dream found no problem with it. George had spent the entire time hidden away looking up at the stars. He had told the others it was because you could see the northern lights so far north. George had spent the nights weeping silently. 

Many people living in the more southern parts of the world had since then shunned the north for never calling the whistle on the commune. A wild conspiracy entailed how the northerners had fraternized and then helped the guards. That they had gotten perks for keeping the prisoners in and had been favoured by Manberg. George knew it wasn’t true.

As he walked through the streets he couldn’t help but notice how no houses had roses or tulips in their gardens. When he passed the window of the bakery he saw that the price of pastries with chocolate was significantly higher than the others. Only the inn they were staying in hung SMP’s flag. 

George walked past the inn. Even though it had been dark, George was sure he had seen a library not far from where they had entered. 

The library was right next to the butcher, marrying the aroma of old books with that of smoke and grilled meat. The spruce house was a little larger than the other houses, two stories high. Tiny poppies were wilting in flower beds underneath the windows. This house didn’t have a sign, but you could see shelves of books from outside, as the colours of their spun stood out against the grey and brown of the exterior. The door was even heavier than the last and let out screak when it was opened.

A large man made a humming sound from inside. He was tall and wore a cap that was too small. He shot a glance as George entered, but looked away just as fast. He was writing in a book splayed out on a lectern.

“Where are you from?”

“L’Manberg,” answered George. His voice was hesitant. The words of the fletcher echoing through his mind. 

“You are far from welcome here.”

“I can leave.”

“I don’t care.”

“I just want to look for some books, please. I won’t take up much of your time”

“I don’t care. Just pay me for my services.”

George decided to walk among the bookshelves with this back to the brusque librarian. The books were a mix of old and new. A number of them looked ready to fall apart, the binding coming apart and the pages turning from yellow to a pale brown at the edges. George combed through them until he found one he thought looked appealing. The book was the only blue in a sea of brown, red, and beige. It was newer and smaller, the colour not flaking and the title entirely intelligible. George pulled it out from the bookshelf with gentle hands.

‘Ragnarok’ was written in bold letters on the front. Nothing else. George made quick work of looking through the stories and found a feeling of great satisfaction wash over him. He pulled open his pouch.

The librarian was still standing at the lectern.

“I would like to buy this.”

“Two emeralds.”

George pulled out his last two emeralds and handed them to the librarian, who took them without a word. Unsure of what to do, George stood still and observed as the man put the emeralds on the lectern and picked up his quill. The first ink hit the page and George was outside, putting his book into his now empty pouch.

A familiar voice was floating through the air. The door to the butcher’s store was open and George could hear Sapnap inside, seemingly arguing with what he could only assume to be the butcher.

Gorge was fighting an internal battle. On one hand, Sapnap had taken to speaking to Dream after the altercation at the temple. On the other hand, George hadn’t taken any initiative himself to speak to his friend, who had been trying to break up the fight before it had even begun to no avail. After taking all this into consideration, George decided, somewhat unwillingly, that there was no point in punishing Sapnap. He was well aware that they could all be stubborn and petty, but this time Sapnap had not been. 

The butcher’s store was made out of cobblestone and had only one window. Cows were roaming around the small pen connected to the bend of the house, most likely to save space in the rather compact town. Inside was a counter that blocked off the entire back of the store.

A large packet of meat was placed on the counter. Sapnap was standing in front of that counter, somewhat red in the face. The butcher was on the other side, holding out his hand. 

“–cooked! I’m not going to pay the full price then!”

“You should have spoken more clearly.”

“I was perfectly clear, thank you.”

George took in the situation. 

“Hi, Sap. Sir,” he waved at Sapnap and nodded politely at the butcher, “Is there anything I can help with.”

“George! Thank god,” there was a good amount of genuine relief as Sapnap uttered the older man’s name, ”He won’t give me the amount of chicken I asked for!” He glared at the man and then looked up at George.

The butcher scoffed. “Tell your friend that I gave him all the chicken he could get for an emerald, just as he asked. And teach him some manners.”

Sapnap was fuming. “I asked for two cooked ones! You gave me eight raw ones!”

“Is there any chance you can cook two of them for us now?” asked George with the same smile he had first given the butcher. He felt like he was talking to a child, letting his voice sound calming and patient. 

“No. I haven’t got any coal on my smoker.”

Sapnap reached his breaking point. 

“You can literally feel that a fire has been going recently and there is a little smoke in the air! I know that there's a fire and I can’t see a fireplace in here!” he exploded, gesturing wildly with his hands. A burning passion behind his eyes.

George pulled an emerald from Sapnap’s pouch and put it on the counter, a second later grabbing the packet of meat. “I’m sorry sir!” he said through a forced smile. He and Sapnap were rushing down the street before the butcher could get a word out. 

“What the hell George!”

“Pick your battles!”

“Oh, like you–” he stopped himself, finding the ground infinitely more interesting. “Sorry. I’ve been on edge since the temple and I shouldn't take it out on you or that asshole butcher.”

Sapnap observed George’s reaction. He noted that the older man looked both shocked and surprised. He was contemplating and Sapnap could only hope that he wouldn’t settle on contempt. 

The hug that came was tense, but Sapnap soon melted into it. 

“I’m sorry, too. I’ve been an idiot.”

They chatted as if nothing had happened as they walked down the street. Sapnap asked George to accompany him to the cartographer and George did so happily. Sapnap was ecstatic. He thought back to how it had been last autumn. It had been just like this. They had walked between stores in villages and laughed about irate villagers. Last year they had travelled through the mountain as it was quicker, but it had been earlier in the year. They didn’t need to worry about cold or snowstorms. It had been lighthearted and tranquil, hiking up and down rocky mountainsides.

They were laughing when Dream came up to them, just outside the cartographer. His mask was firmly on his face. Without a word, he handed them each a thick woollen jumper. Then he handed his leftover emeralds to Sapnap. Sapnap thought it very light when he took it. In Dream’s other hand he had his axe and slung snuggly over his back was his satchel. 

“I’m going to the forest for the rest of the day, but I’ll be back before dawn. The potions were too expensive.”

George began to open his mouth however Dream just stormed past them. Townspeople were looking at his mask as he passed. They leaned over and whispered to each other as George and Sapnap stood stunned in the middle of it all. 

“Whatever is he so pissy about?” asked Sapnap. His Body was tense again and his brows furrowed. 

“He’ll come around.” 

“It’s his fault.”

“He doesn't understand it and that’s on me.”

Sapnap thought about George’s words and found it that he didn’t understand. He didn’t press it. Instead, he opened the door to the cartographer and shook the emeralds in front of George’s face.

“We can pass by the bakery and buy something sugary. Their sweet berry muffins were really cheap.”

George laughed. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten muffins since last winter when Bad made some.”

Autumn still had a chance. The leaves took some time to fall. Autumn always changed the forest slowly as it passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Thanks for reading and all that!
> 
> Do people read the notes? I think it's always fun to read what the author think, so for my own sanity I'm going to assume people do.
> 
> This was supposed to be short and sweet beach-episode style chapter of the three of them buying stuff in the village, but I started writing George and suddenly it was the longest chapter yet! So I made it an entire chapter dedicated to George – a George-centric world-building/exposition dump. Don’t ask me how. The next is going to be Sapnap-centric, and I've foreshadowed (I tried at least) what's going to happen to him. 
> 
> We had to read 1984 (George Orwell) for school, (and as a precautionary measure I read it all in one night) and wow is the word building good! Anyways, here are some world building things:
> 
> SMP is a kingdom and has been for a long time, but L'Manberg declared independence around 150 years ago when the story takes place. They were a republic, but after some years of famine, the regime of Manberg were able to take over. Phil was an important figure during the revolution, and after it Wilbur rose to be part of the new government. George's family was frieds with many rebels and therefore moved out. 
> 
> Wilbur and Eret are the only characters who have any political power within the universe, the rest are just ordinary people. Eret is the heir of a lord and therefore still has his castle, close to the borders of L'Manberg (I ain't ever heard of any betrayals, by the way).
> 
> There are only three countries: SMP, Badlands, and L'Manberg. Others are territories. For example, Dry waters is a territory of L'Manberg. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayymeow1)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap reaches his boiling point and more than only words hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Minor physical violence, major character injury

The atmosphere turned sour as they returned to the road. Sapnap walked in front of George, doing the utmost to ignore the tension. They both pretended as if everything was well as if no one walked behind them. When they went to sleep, they pretended as if the fire didn’t cast a shadow over a third person. If the sound of a creeper suddenly disappeared or bones rattled violently, no comment was made. The leaves were brown now, but Sapnap had lost sight of them. They were hidden behind layer and layer of fir, left far behind.

They shared their food. They shared their time. In the next village, they shared a room. Dream didn’t utter a word to George and only spoke a handful of words to Sapnap. He took the first watch and didn’t remove his mask even once. It went on for five days. 

The night was just beginning to fall, a night they were supposed to spend in a small village. 

“We’ll be there in, like, less than an hour? Can’t we just keep walking?” asked Sapnap when George stopped.

“This map seems old so I can’t know how accurate it is. And this is a good place to stay. It turns dark so fast and the sky is clouded. The village people said a lot of mobs spawn here. ”

Sapnap didn’t complain. He found harbouring resentment rather tiring – a newly gained insight. Sapnap wasn’t the kind of person who kept anger inside. No, he exploded, lashing out, and then calmed. He didn’t enjoy wallowing in anger for the sake of being angry. That isn’t to say that he didn’t get angry. His temperament was apparent even for people who didn’t know him. Sapnap travelled the world with his heart on his sleeve and unrelenting will. 

Fighting wasn’t something unfamiliar either. Many notorious disputes had happened between them in their childhood and teenage years. Arguments with Sapnap were over quickly, he was stubborn and didn’t care for the arguing, only the winning. Sapnap forgave and forgot, and that had rubbed off on the other two, or so he had thought. Somewhere along the line, he realised as he gained this very recent insight, things had changed again.

Instead of musing on all of that, he instead let himself bask in delight at a large pile of dry twigs. He picked them up and after some minutes a tall fire was burning in the middle of their camp. The flames were reaching high and eating at the wood fast. The warmth it provided and the smoke carried in soft clouds by a wind created a calm. The fire very much contrasted the cold and stiffness of the people enjoying it. 

Dream had put his sleeping bag some way away from the other two. They could see how he was shivering and rubbing his hands together. The wind hitting him moved his hair around, like the leaves on a tree. His axe was lying next to him, the netherrite head shining in the fire. 

Before Sapnap could tell himself otherwise he took a deep breath and braced himself.

“Dream!” he called out. “I can see you shivering, dude. Just sit a bit closer to the fire.”

George gave him a sharp look. A look that went away as it was replaced with gratitude. 

“I’m perfectly fine here,” answered Dream.

“Honestly, can’t you just give up. I get that you are mad at George, but you kinda started it. This seems unnecessary. You’re acting like a drama queen.”

When Dream said nothing, just shifted his body away, Sapnap turned back to George and began a conversation. They spoke about nothing special. Sapnap told a story about when he stole a used treasure map from a wandering trader once. George laughed along, pretending it wasn’t the tenth time he heard it. The story prompted George to talk about a time he had missed a fight between the children in his old village because he didn’t know the game of hide and seek was over. They laughed with each other, occasionally casting a glance in Dream’s direction. Without fain, Dream would make a show of looking away. Without fail, Sapnap would feel the mood slipping. 

It went on for an hour before Sapnap hit his breaking point. He took off his shoe, stuffed it with his sock to add some extra weight, and threw it at Dream. It collided with his moving hand and flew to the side. In doing so, it disappeared into the darkness.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Dream. His entire posture was hostile. It made the paralyzed smile of the mask even more unpleasant. Sapnap ignored it, finally meeting his eyes head-on. They were staring each other down before. Sapnap could almost feel the fuse in his brain getting shorter. He threw a final, dry log into the fire and then stood up in front of it. His body hesitated when his bare, left foot hit the ground but his mind was set. He had George in the corner of his eye, to this right. Dream was right in front.

“Yeah. I did that so that you can stop acting so stupid.”

Sapnap knew the words were childish but it felt right. He had no need to hide what he meant under clever quips and metaphors. What he said was what he meant. 

The words made Dream rise from his sleeping bag. The flames hit his mask, painting it orange and yellow. 

“Are you really going to take the moral high ground? You are always the first person to pick a fight. And by the way, it’s not like you weren’t a part of it all. Even George said it!” Dream was gesturing, and his chest began to heave. “ You said we were depressing and that you were trying to be positive–” he spat the word out, “–but we have never been the people to ignore things. If you had been braver–”

“Dream!” scolded Gorge, shocked. 

“–we would have fought it out and everything would have been fine,” finished Dream. 

Sapnap’s jaw was on the floor. He couldn’t wrap his head around the world that had been spoken to him. 

“Bravery?” he repeated silently. He took a backwards, feeling the heat on his back and letting it reassure him. “Are you fucking me?”

He was almost screaming now. 

“You are such a dick sometimes! You attacked George’s family and pushed him! Then you talk about my bravery and still think you are in the right!” Sapnap pointed a finger accusingly at the other.

“You are provoking me!” screamed Dream back in the same manner. He took another step forward. They were so close. Sapnap felt a sudden urge to rip the mask away. He would motivate it with revenge or anger, but when he thought about it again he only felt guilt.

“You are so good at shifting blame, Dream.”

“The only thing I have to say is that I am allowed to be fucking angry with you or George!” He was gripping his hair. A few strands were still moving in the wind, but the rest were under the control of either Dream’s hands or his mask. 

Sapnap knew very well how Dream looked under that mask. Sapnap knew that tears were threatening to spill and that with every breath his eyes would drift to the left, looking for the right words. Sapnap was well aware that Dream was trying to keep to being angry instead of only frustrated. But when he found himself staring into the unforgiving eyes of a blank mask, he couldn’t bring himself to accept that Dream was just the same as him. 

His fuse ran out.

“We are supposed to be a team!” he screamed. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the wings of a bird as it flew away.

“Do you want me to leave?” screamed Dream back. 

Sapnap could hear how George was saying something to his side but ignored it.

“No! Why would I ever say that?”

“Then what are you trying to say?!”

“You aren’t even listening!”

“Then start saying things I can actually understand!”

“What–”

“You argue just like when we were kids!”

New, hot rage burned inside of Sapnap and words were no longer enough. He closed the distance and raised his arms. Before he had reached his goal a hand was pushing his left shoulder. He merely staggered backwards, hastily putting his left foot down just behind him. 

The fire was there to catch him.

“Sapnap!”

“No!”

The shouts came at the same time but Sapnap didn’t register it. His bare foot had stepped down onto the flaming charcoal and even though it had only been for a second pain spread through his leg. Tears welled up in his eyes. He gasped at the sensation. Wobbling, he moved onto his right foot and felt his upper body fall forwards. All he could focus on was the agony. Someone caught him and pulled him away from the flames licking their way up his leg. It was agonizing.

Sapnap was lowered onto the forest floor by George and in a flash Dream was there with his sleeping bag, pressing it down with the leathery side to Sapnap’s leg, to choke the incessant flames. 

Sapnap screamed, eyes rolling back

“It’s going to be alright Sapnap,” said George with as much composure he could muster. “It’s going to be fine– Dream! The waterskins!”

Dream jumped into action, pulling out the waterskin from George’s backpack and unscrewing the top. George ripped it from his hands and in a delicate frenzy poured it over the wound. Focusing most on the sole of the foot. It wasn’t pretty. Thus far it was only read, but George knew well well what was coming. Burns were traitorous things. 

Sapnap was openly crying. Every time the water touched his damaged skin he would hiss or groan at the pain. He did his best to hold still, but when Dream pulled out bandages he gasped out, “Hold me down,” as best as he could. It was a plea, and the last coherent words he said. 

George did so. Whispering reassurances into his ear and stroking his hair; holding a hand over his chest as Dream loosely wrapped damp bandages around his foot and leg. He swallowed all but two screams. He was in such pain that George hoped he would just lose consciousness. He didn’t. Sapnap kept awake, altering between leaning back on George and rigidly fighting him so he could get away from the bandages. 

“I’m almost done, Sap. Everything is going to be fine. It’s going to be over soon,” whispered Dream. He did his best to be quick. He winced along with Sapnap every time. 

Sapnap heard the words, none of them mattered. His mind was clouded with pain, his foot and leg were burning. The only thing soothing him were comforting touches and a cold wind blowing over him every so often. 

His mind was blank. He did take notice of when the bandages stopped coming. He did take notice of how someone began moving around. He did take notice of being laid down properly on something soft. 

Sapnap did not notice the arrow whizzing past, nor the panic that ensued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> The expression "cliff hanger" was coined when Charles Dickens left off one of his serials by having guy hang from a cliff. I hope I did it justice. I'm also posting the next chapter already on Friday, because I want to :). I'm online fro school two out of three weeks and I can not focus if my life depended on it when I'm home, so I used my maths class for writing
> 
> I want to say thanks to everyone that left kudos and the people that bookmarked it!! That kind of thing makes me really motivated and really makes me continue writing this story.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayymeow1)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight is inevitable. Dream makes it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Depictions of violence and injury

The arrow hit the tree. A second arrow hit the ground next to it. 

The sound of rattling bones moving was unmistakable. It was getting louder, filling the air and drowning out every sound of nature. 

Dream grabbed his axe and threw on his pack. His crossbow was loaded and at his disposal in seconds. In the corner of his eye, he saw George reach for his discarded bow. Sapnap was still, his axe far from both him and George and completely useless. 

“Take Sap and run George!” shouted Dream. He knew the chances were low, the odds stacked against them. “Go to the village!”

“No! I-”

An arrow hit the ground. They took cover. 

“They are coming from the east, the village is north. Take Sap and fucking run!”

For the first time, he wished he didn’t have his mask on. His entire body was tense in anticipation for the battle, his voice rough, and his movements jagged. The face hidden behind the mask was one of despair. He just wanted to keep them safe. 

“Go!”

George grabbed his and Sapnap’s packs and put an arm under Sapnap. He gave Dream one last look, one that portrayed so much, Dream couldn’t even begin to ponder over it. It was everything they had ever been through all at once. It was anger and relief; sadness and spite. A lone zombie was trailing after them. Dream looked away.

There were whimpers and groans, but they were soon overwhelmed by more rattling and more arrows. Four arrows shot towards him and one at George’s back. 

The shield was at his foot. He had to make a choice. There were too many coming at him. If he would pick out the crossbow he would inflict more damage, but that possibility was fragile. One wrong move, an arrow would hit him, and he would be down. The skeletons had come too suddenly. He had no chance to get the upper hand – not when his friend could not even stand on his own. Times were never so uncertain that he would pick his crossbow, no matter how loved, over George and Sapnap. 

A shield meant he would have to get close. Shields gave short moments of safety, moments where one could think, but also a false sense of security. You had to keep watch over your mind, otherwise, you would forget the ambiguity of protection.

In seconds, his shield was in his hands. Right on time, the arrow hit it straight on. His crossbow was hastily thrown to the floor. 

He sprang into action. His axe met bone and then the fight had begun. Two arrows fired after the first skeleton had fallen. Dream stealthily ducked one of them. The other he had to roll down onto the ground. He rolled some steps, hitting one of the skeletons from underneath, the brunt force of the swing chattering the bone in its path. the bones toppled onto him.

His eyes found yet another skeleton loading his bow, but the momentary glitter of red from behind it, hidden by the darkness of the wood, caused much more alarm. He held up his shield and met the arrow head-on. His feet slid on the ground beneath and a pain shot up in his underarm. He grunted lowly. Still, he lowered his shield and swung. The skeleton had moved. His axe meets air. Dream used all his strength for it not to meet the ground. The skeleton had already begun reloading his bow.

He sprinted forwards, making his shield collide with the skeleton, knocking the arm out of its sad excuse for a socket. He swung his axe again, cutting through the rib cage.

Dream could hear more bones knocking into each other. He saw more sparks of red. He was not sure if the sound of a hoard of feet heavily and slowly hitting dirt was real or a product of paranoia.

He took off running in the direction of his friends. The stamp of slagging feet got closer. Dream encountered the first one only twenty blocks away from the meadow. A straggler, behind the pack. The animalistic gurgle the zombie let out was loud, and Dream winced.

This time, the axe met flesh. Puss and lumps of dark read clots began spilling out of the would. The odour made Dream’s eyes water. It always did.

The sound had attracted the hoard. In their simple-mindedness, they managed to surround Dream. Zombies were motivated by one thing only, human flesh. He fought as best as he could, trying to move forward. For every three mobs he hit, he would manage to take one step forward. He blocked and swung and killed and missed.

One zombie had a damaged chest plate and helmet on. It caught Dream off guard, and without having time to think he dug his blade into the side. It caught on a gash in the metal. When the zombie staggered, Dream followed. The shock of the moment made him vulnerable for only a couple of seconds, that was all it took. One of the zombies caught onto his pack, another grabbed his sleeve.

The pack was a lost cause. As soon as his axe had loosened, he fought back. He kicked the zombie on his arm, making it collide, and hinder, four others. The extra weight on his pack made him lose balance. His foot hit the ground at a weird angle. Dream hissed and hit the zombies by his back with extra force.

He was panting heavily. The treacherous roots under him did not offer any aid. For the first time, neither did the trees or the branches. There was no light around him. The dying fire was long out of his line of sight, and the sky was pitch black.

Yet, Dream had no choice. He was fighting tooth and nail, moving slowly forwards. Just when he thought his lungs were going to fail him when his grunts had turned into wheezing, a hissing sound among the chaos.

The shield was covering him in seconds. Dream ignored the gash that was made on his leg.

Boom.

The creeper exploded. Dream had been closer than he anticipated. The force pushed him off the ground. He was in the air for a second before his back hit a tree. He yelled at the pain and groaned when he hit the hard roots. 

Dream could taste dirt in his mouth. His mask was on the ground next to him.

Every moment caused him pain.

Thoughts of George and Sapnap made their way into Dream’s mind. 

He could see an opening. Most of the zombies had been killed by the explosion.

Only adrenaline was carrying him now. He spit out the dirt and needles. The mask was on. He got up, ignoring the agony of his battered body, and ran.

He pushed the zombies out of the way with his shield. The road was clear. More red games followed him in the shadows. Inhumane gurgling made him almost lose his footing. He stumbled and blocked and hit and hesitated and kicked. Pure adrenaline was running through his veins. He knew his legs were ready to give out. He knew his back ached as it had never done before.

No lights were there to make him aware of the village. It was just as dark as the rest of the forest and even quieter. Suddenly there were just structures wildly different from the tall, thin trees. 

Dream listened closely. Somewhere along the way, he had lost the zombies and skeletons. However, the odour was ever-present. The penetrating stink of rotting flesh and death was floating through the air. Dream wasn’t sure if it was because of his clothes, soiled with blood or if it was the village. He had a sneaking suspicion it was the latter.

A light began shining in one of the houses. It was a faint orange shine, spilling out of a window of the first floor of a building. It was the only sign of life in the entire village. Dream felt how his pulse quickened. 

The jump over the river suddenly came to Dream’s mind as he used his last energy to trudge towards the building. Climbing up those stairs, focusing only on the expectation of light, facing the possibility of it not being his companions safe and sound, was the real leap of faith. The village was abandoned, that was clear from the start. Dream had no illusions. This was where all the zombies had come from. That weak light would be what 

The stairs were built on the outside of the building, but some steps had withered down and been destroyed. He made his way up the stairs in a hurry.

“George!” he called out as he scrambled upwards. He was picking up the pace and burst into the room. His axe was at his side. 

There sat George, with Sapnap’s head in his lap.

“George! Sapnap!”

Dream slid down unto the filthy floor next to them and pulled them into a hug. His mask slipped off along the way. Sapnap was conscious, but he was pale and had a sheen of sweat covering his face. His leg was still wrapped up in a bandage.  
They stayed like that for a while. That was until George pressed his arm just s bit tighter and Dream inhaled sharply.

“Are you alright?” asked George, moving away, but still keeping a hand on both of the other's arms.

“Is’ not your blood, right?” slurred Sapnap, his voice clear yet so very strained. 

“I– some of it is.”

“Let me help you.”

With the help of George’s gentle hands, his shoulder pads, jumper and shirt were carefully taken off. It took some time, as Dream finally began to realise how much his body really hurt.

“Sorry,” murmured George for the nth time when Dream winced.

“At least I don’t look as bad as him,” joked Dream, motioning to Sapnap, but it wasn’t as lighthearted as he intended it to be. Sapnap was tense, yet constantly moving, trying to make it as comfortable as possible. The bandaged had tightened, the burn had begun to swell underneath it. It seemed as though the pain was increasing every second, because Sapnap was breathing heavier and heavier, and the strain was clearly showing on his face.

In comparison, Dream did look better. 

Bruises had already begun blooming over his chest and back, but most of it was angry red. His back was the worst. The red was centred around his ribs and backbone, covering the entirety of it. Around his shoulders, the skin had been scraped and blood vessels under the skin had broken. A zombie had grazed his upper arm and it was bleeding slightly. 

Soon they had established that many of his ribs were bruised and one or two were fractured, none of the broken. Both of them were aware that there could be something more serious, but they had no way of knowing. George took some leftover bandage and poured some water over it, then handed it to Dream. Dream took it gratefully and began to wipe away blood, dirt and other grime from his upper body and face. The fabric became greyish-red quickly.

Dream had other injuries that George tended to in the meanwhile. The large gash on his leg was still bleeding. His ankle was swollen and Dream grunted when George so much as grazed it with his fingers. The last of their bandages were used to bind the ankle.

By the time Dream’s injuries were properly treated Sapnap had fallen asleep. It was an uneasy sleep. He was moving around, moaning and hissing. George made sure that his bandage was on right. Their second sleeping bag was moved closer to Sapnap. George convinced Dream to take it. Although George was bruised and battered, having fought some monsters along the way, he was nowhere as bad as his companions. 

“I lost my pack. A zombie grabbed it.”

“It’s fine, Dream. Sap had all of the important stuff in his.”

“I’m so sorry. It was my fault”

“I forgive you… and so does he.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I'm quite happy with his, its my first time writing a fight scene. I'm sure it's far from perfect, but I did my best.I'm always open for some constructive criticism. On the other hand, I was struggling with the language, because English isn't my native tounge. They don't have a possessive pronoun to differentiate between when it's the subject's possession or the object's possession, and that fucks me up. English is kind of a trash language, but I digress. I hope it was readable at the very least.
> 
> These last three chapters have been centred more around one character, next chapter I'm going back to focusing on all three of them and forcing norse mythology on everyone. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayymeow1)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thing have calmed down and old friends appear.

The upper floor of the house with the broken stairs became their base. The cold was slowly creeping closer. The broken window and battered door offered no protection. None of them could afford to get sick. There were only two villages left on their route, then they were supposed to through the mountain. Yet, they couldn’t leave.

Sapnap’s pain had subsided somewhat. Still, he had blisters and the skin was tender, He was not going to be able to walk on it for a while. They had only been able to care for it so that he wouldn’t catch an infection, the rest was left up to luck. Nothing to ease the lingering pain, nothing to aid the healing process. Sapnap hid it when he was in pain, he had no intention of being a burden, but he was unsuccessful. 

Dream’s injuries didn’t make things better. He had difficulty moving because of his ribs and bruises. He too would hide it. He tried to distract himself and the other two by constantly helping. Cooking all the food, caring for Sapnap’s injuries, mending their clothes, everything he could do without moving out of the little room.

George did hard labour. He would go out hunting because their food was in the lost pack. He would go to a nearby stream to fill the water skins and wash their clothes.

“We are going to have to leave soon. We all know it,”

They were sitting huddled together on the remaining two sleeping bags when Sapnap spoke up. They had been staying in place for over a week at that point.

“You can’t walk on your own,” answered George in a dry tone. He was reading his book carefully turning page after page, disappearing into his mind, following along in stories he already knew by heart. 

“So what if I can’t?” responded Sapnap immediately in a petulant voice. He playfully shoved George, but the movement caused Dream, who was on George's other side, to an arm in his side. He huffed. “Shit. Sorry, dude.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Okay, so, you know I’m right, Gogy. It’s getting really cold.”

For a moment, George looked up from his book. He looked at Sapnap, and then at Dream.

“I have a story.”

Sapnap and Dream groaned, this time not from pain.  
“My leg hurts, like, a lot. You said that sleep is good for that.” 

“Then I can read you to sleep, or something.”

He put the book down, which made Dream scoff.

“Of course you know it.”

George ignored him. Listening to the sounds around him, imagining the story in his head, he began.

“Loki, the god of chaos, had three children with a giantess named Angrboda. The ruler of Helheim, the realm of the unworthy dead, Hel. The serpent encircling the entire world, the Midgard serpent, Jormungandr. And of course, the wolf that could never be bound, the mighty wolf Fenrir.”

A calm had fallen over the room. Sapnap was sitting still, just as lost in the story as George. Dream was leaning against the wall. This moment was ever so tender, so fragile, yet nothing from outside could penetrate the tranquillity.

“When Fenrir had grown up, no longer a pup, he would run around Valhalla. The strong wolf would frighten all, god and man alike. Only Tyr would dare give him food.”

The pause came and went. George reached for the book that lay discarded on the fur beside him. He opened it and leafed through the pages until he found what he was searching for. He pushed his arm out from his body, to allow the two sitting on each side of him a chance to see the spread. A drawing was covering the entirety of it. A picture of a colossal wolf in the middle of a battle, the death digging into a human on the ground.

“But there was a prophecy that Fenrir would become a menace for the god. The gods felt they needed to do something, and just like with the giant Tjatse, the gods made it into a game for the wolf. The gods made an unusually strong chain to bind the wolf and thinking it was a game, the wolf let himself be bound. But Fenrir only shook his body and the chain was turned into a thousand little pieces of shining metal,” George let his voice fall off. Before he continued, he put the book down.

“Now, the gods made another chain, double the strength of the last chain. They had to put all their efforts together to carry it to Fenrir. They told him that if he could brain free of these chains, he would truly be worthy of honour and glory. The chain was put onto his and even though it was stronger, so was Fenrir. It took the large wolf some time to break free, but break free he did. The chain was in ruin.”

A light shuffling, followed by a groan came from Dream. Sapnap giggled and George smiled. Dream had fallen asleep amid the story.

“You bored him to sleep, Gogy.”

“Didn’t you say that you were going to sleep?”

“Is it wrong that I’ve already forgiven him?”

George wasn't shocked by the question. He had been waiting for it. It stung, somewhere deep inside of his soul he had to admit it stung. Everything came so easy for Sapnap when it came to people, to emotions. Small talk, conversation, empathy, communication – it was never a problem for the younger. At least not in George’s mind. George knew he put this trait of his friend’s on a pedestal, and he hated himself for that too.

“No.”

“Have you forgiven him?”

“Yes.”

“I wanted things to, like, end like this. I mean- not that I wanted to burn myself because that hurts,” he looked down at his leg and his eyes watered. His voice was ever so slightly thicker when he spoke again. “But I wanted us to be fine again. I wanted summer to be over, you know?”

“We are going to fight again,” hummed George, “But never like this. This was pretty bad.”

“Whatever…” whispered Sapnap to break the atmosphere they’d created. “So did they bind the wolf-thing again? Like, what happened?” asked Sapnap when they had calmed. 

George gave Sapnap a once-over. He spoke slower and more quietly this time.

“Well, the gods became more and more worried. They could not have the giant wolf run free. The brave champions of Valhalla dared not go outside. The gods dared not to be near the wolf. So this time they went to the skilled dwarves for a chain. The dwarves made one out of six materials: the sound of a cat’s footsteps, the beard of a woman, the root of a mountain, the tendrils of a bear-” Sapnap grimaced. “- the breath of a fish, and the spit of a bird. But when the gods went to bind Fenrir he suspected foul play. The chain was almost a thread, light and thin. The gods said only a coward would not dare to be bound in such an insignificant thread. Fenrir only had one condition: one of the gods had to have their hand in his mouth.”

Sapnap let his mouth hang open in mock surprise. Still, he thought the story was one of the more interesting tales. 

“The brave Tyr volunteered. When he had put his hand in the wolf’s maw Fenrir began to struggle, but the thread only wound tighter around his giant body. The gods all cheered, except-”

“Oh no,” mumbled Sapnap.

“-poor Tyr… for he had lost his hand. The thread was tied around a cliff and no matter how much Fenrir struggled, he could not break free. When he opened his maw to try to jump at the gods one of them put a sword in his jaw, with the tip into his palate. There he will stand until Ragnarok.”

“Poor Fenrir,” muttered Sapnap. He put his head against George’s shoulder. He didn’t know if it was a sign of gratitude or if he was simply tired.

“It’s not even dark out yet. The sun’s still out,” he said. His eyes were locked onto the broken window. The sun was in fact still out. The sky was a clear blue, not a cloud in sight. The view was of course very limited, but was it there if no one could see it?

“That’s why it’s so cold outside.”

“Because the sun is out?”

“Yeah. When the sun is out during winter, it collects all the warmth. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be able to burn during the summer.”

“Is that in one of your books too?”

“Actually it isn’t–” George put his arm around his friend, “– my… dad used to say that to me. The village elders did what they do.” He laughed.

“It makes no sense. I swear you can say whatever, but it makes no sense,” remarked Sapnap. He leaned into George. For a moment he could forget his leg. For a moment he could see past the cold. For a moment the mountains didn’t matter. Beside him was George’s warm arms, and close by were Dream’s light snores. 

“I don’t decide on the weather, Sap. Even you know that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The homely laughter made Dream wake up. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but when he came to he joined in. He felt as if it were the obvious thing to do. At first, it was just giggling. Giggling turned into infectious laughter, and this time they didn’t try to be quiet. Dream wasn’t quite as expressive in his joy, laughing only causing pain in his ribs, but he was smiling like a madman. 

“I’ve missed this,” whispered Dream.

“It’s-” he had to stop because of a laugh he couldn’t stop “-finally winter,” he managed to get out. “I mean… I just think autumn has done its job.”

“What?” chuckled Dream incredulously. 

Just then, a shout came from outside: “Hullo?”

Sapnap and Dream both made instinctive moves to get up, but both fell down again on account of their injuries. Instead, George got up and grabbed his bow and quiver. He motioned for Sapnap to stay down, giving up on Dream who already had his axe ready and was struggling to stand up properly. His mask haphazardly slipped over his face. 

Sneaking as quietly as possible on the old planks, George moved over to the window. He pressed his back into the wall and pulled back the string on his bow. Carefully, he peeked out the window. His eyes scanned over the abandoned spruce buildings; over the ruined marketplace. Nothing.

“Well I guess no one is here,” came the same voice again, this time more monotone. 

Recognition crossed Dream’s face. He was standing towards the door now, leaning on the wall. He met both his companions’ gazes, both of whom looked at him quizzically. 

“Techno?!” he shouted, eyes darting around the room, watching for the others’ reactions. For good measure, since his face was obstructed, he let his head fully follow the movements of his eyes. Sure enough, Sapnap’s eyes widened and George let go of his strained grip on his bow. 

“Techno?” mouthed George. Still sneaking, he made his way to Dream’s side. 

Dream opened the door to the room. He didn’t step out on the stairs, just kept it open to get a better view.

“Is that Dream?” came a second voice. The second voice had notably more emotion to it and a British accent. The tension in the small room disappeared.

“Phil! Techno!” shouted Dream out into the air. 

Silence. One, two, three seconds passed.

“Well if it isn’t Dream,” drawled Techno. He walked into view of Dream and smiled almost menacingly. Phil was right behind him, adorning a much friendlier expression. 

They were dressed in thick fur coats and bulky boots. Techno had his signature pig mask on, strands of pink hair falling onto it; Phil had a green and white striped hat pulled over his ears and big, grey wings peeking out from behind. Between the two of them, they had one bag and one wolf. The bag slung over Phil’s shoulder and the wolf standing snuggly at Techno’s side. 

“Hello,” said George in his usual reserved manner.

“It’s good to see you guys. Been a while,” said Dream, smiling and already staggering down the stairs. He only made it three steps before he stopped.

“Guys, I can’t see anything! You can’t just leave a guy behind like this!” shouted Sapnap from his position on the floor.  
“Hi Sapnap,” shouted Phil as an answer. “Any reason you're up there?”

“Yeah, I burned my foot and now it hurts like a bitch!”

The statement made Phil frown. He turned his attention towards Dream and George. He was inspecting them rigorously. How Dream was slouching and how George had a bandage around his wrist. 

“What happened to you?”

It was Techno who asked the question. The comment from Sapnap, or maybe how Dream hadn’t tried to ascend the stairs, making the cogs start turning in his head too.

“Sapnap stepped into a campfire. Then a lot of mobs came out of nowhere… so we had to fight, like, a bit, and uh…” started Dream.

“And we got our asses kicked but only a little bit.”

“Sap!”

It made Techno laugh. Phil’s frown only deepened. He walked to the stairs and began climbing them. He motioned for Techno to follow. He did but only after muttering something about exerting himself under his breath. Dream and George backed up, into the room. Both of their weapons being put on the floor.

“Do you not have any healing potions,” inquirer Phil, mid-climb.

“No. They’re quite stingy in the villages around here,” answered George. His mind wandered back to the fletcher and her warnings, but his wandering stopped as soon as it started. 

“I know. How bad is it?”

“I can’t walk and Dream’s ribs are messed up.”

Phil and Techno shared a glance. 

“What would you say if we asked you to come to our house for a while? We have potions and resources to fix you up in no time.”

George sighed in relief. All the tension left his body and he almost wanted to just collapse. 

“We would say thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I know I didn't post last week. I have a lot of school work right now and I don't have any pre-written chapters left. I I'm not supper happy with this chapter but its really a filler so that we can meet Phil and Techno!
> 
> Comment and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayymeow1)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stay at Phil and Techno's house is calm.

After almost three full days of limping through tall spruce trees, over barren, stubby mountains, and finally crossing into the snowy tundra, the gates of the Arctic Commune were in sight. Small, empty fields where the snow had been shovelled away had been dug in plots in the area around it. A thick, heavy door made out of eroding spruce protecting the small cluster of buildings inside. Surrounding it was a wall, spanning almost five blocks into the air, made out of cobblestone. Here and there, closer to top, holes had been made and around those the stone had fallen. 

When it was pushed open it made a loud cracking sound and when it was closed there was a thud. The first thing that met you as you went inside was a large house. It was right in the middle. Made out of spruce, white clay, and stone, it melted right into its surroundings. A horse was happily chewing on hay in a small enclosure to the side, neighing happily as the sole inhabitants returned. No smoke came from the chimney and the lantern at the door wasn’t lit.

Several significantly smaller houses and buildings surrounded it. They too were made mostly out of stone and wood, but less refined. Cobblestone in place of smooth stone bricks and logs instead of planks made them feel less homely. They came in a range of sizes, littering the frozen ground inside the walls. Some of the larger ones looked more like the big house; they also had locks on the doors. The trampled snow made a pattern between the many remnants of a once-living commune. 

The party of five were promptly led to the big house. The wolf that had followed dutifully at Techo’s side made his way to the horse instead. He ran between the mare’s legs with his tail wagging. The inside was more welcoming than the outside. Lanterns gave the room a warm feel, along with the open fire, paintings and bookshelves. Dream and Sapnap were led to the guest room and George made sure they each claimed a bed and stayed there. The three were then left alone. Finally, they could be calm. After some time the aroma of baked potatoes and beef drifted through the air.

When the door to the room opened next, it was Phil. In his hands, he had two bright pink potions. He had changed from his thick coat and boots, but the hat was still on. 

“It’s not going to be perfect since your injuries are old. You’ll be sore and so on but it’s better than nothing!” he said happily, handing one potion to Dream and one to Sapnap.

“Bottoms up,” whispered Sapnap. He pulled out the cork, Dream doing the same, and put it to his lips. Sapnap was chugging quietly, but Dream recognized a challenge when he saw one. Consequently, he chugged faster.

“Honestly you two,” sighed George from his position between them in the room.

A performative, loud last swallow signalled that Dream had won. The swallow was followed by carefully restricted and painful pants as his ribs had not yet healed. Sapnap was a few drops behind. When he finished, he grimaced. Healing potions were usually fine, the melon being a nice touch, but Sapnap could taste the glowstone powder in it. 

“Thanks, Phil.”

“Your welcome,” he smiled. “We made food so you three can just come down when you’re ready. Techno’s worked very hard on his potatoes this year. He cooked way too many, but he eats a lot. He needs to be strong and all that.”

The three were on their feet immediately. A home-cooked meal had not been an everyday occurrence for some time now. 

They followed down the stairs, passing bookshelf after bookshelf, on their way to the kitchen. George found himself stopping as his eyes registered something of interest on one of the spines. Sapnap, almost as fascinated by the decor as George, walked into his back, which made Dream, who was helping him, stumble. It prompted George to keep walking. 

Phil had not been exaggerating. 

Potatoes took up two out of the three crocks at the table. The third contained beef and cooked beetroots. Five finely crafted wooden plates, along with metal cutlery, had been used to set the table. It was all slightly crooked, haphazardly placed where the chairs had already stood, but it was neither the king nor the president visiting for dinner. Along with it, they had gone through the trouble of lighting a pair of wax candles rather than a lantern.

The three guests all expressed their copious gratitude. Phil shot them down with a smile. Techno grunted and said something somewhat snarky about hospitality.

The food and atmosphere left behind a comfortable silence as they ate; interrupted by some praise given to the potatoes and a short update on the wellbeing of L’Manberg. Only when the plates had been cleared did the conversation start.

“What are you guys doin’ here anyway? There isn’t a lot to do up here and it doesn’t exactly look like you were prepared,” asked Techno. He had a smile on his face despite his tone.

“We're on our way to the Badlands. Visiting Bad and Skeppy and San and all that,” came Dream’s reply. 

“Cool. Been travelling for long?” inquired Phil.

George looked around at his companions. None of the two seemed eager to answer so he did it for them.

“Yeah, uhm… a month, give or take.”

“And you said you’re going to the Badlands–” Phil scratched his chin. “–you’re not going to miss the cold, that’s for sure.”

“We got delayed.”

“Yeah, I would guess you didn’t plan on gettin’ injured. Man, there must have been a lot of zombies to get you that beat up,” smirked Techno, directing it at Dream. Dream answered with a soulless fake laugh which made Techno let out a real laugh. Both of them had removed their mask upon getting to the house. 

“George has enough stories to last us and an extra week, right Gogy,” said Sapnap with a grin. It made Phil react.

“Wilbur told me you were quite the storyteller.”

George laughed.

To his side, Dream gently poked Sapnap in the arm and then motioned to their older friend. He mimicked his smile, making sure to crinkle his eyes, and followed it up with his own, softer smile. Sapnap noded. His entire body was relaxed and he hadn’t felt this warm for days.

“Have the two of you spoken to Wilbur lately. Visited L’Manberg?”

“Yeah, we were there not too long ago. Tommy and Tubbo are great, and Niki and Fundy were visiting from Drywaters. Wilbur was away negotiating a treaty with SMP, I think.”

Sapnap perked up; “How’s Fungi?” His tone was casual but he had leaned forward and his eyes widened as he said it. Dream let out a low wheeze. 

“Fungi’s fine… I heard you tried to kill it,” stated Techno with an air of indifference.

“No!” exclaimed Sapnap. “I didn’t mean to hurt it! It was just… there,” he continued, pouting. 

“They got another pet too, a bee named Beelloon,” declared Techno.

“Maybe you will accidentally drown it,” joked Dream. The last word was somewhat muddled as he wheezed at his own joke.

“It wasn’t that funny,” deadpanned Techno. Wrong thing to say as it made a quarrel begin amongst the three. George opted to address Phil instead of getting involved. 

“But the people there are fine? Like, it’s healing?”

“Yeah,” breathed Phil. “Things are better. It’s not perfect, but it never is. Wilbur, the little shit, is going around teaching all the kids old songs that used to be banned and the stupid ones he, Tommy and the kids underground used to make. Do you tell any of the old L’Manbergian tales, by the way?”

“I know Wilbur likes folk songs but I’m sticking with the gods.”

“You know, I never believed in you gods. I was brought up on different tales,” injected Techno. The comment made Sapnap and Dream quiet down. “We have our own on the other side of the sea. Never heard of Odin and Thor until I was let loose on Phil’s library when I came,” confessed Techno. His white eyes were seemingly more prominent; his hair just a bit pinker.

“Techno,” chided Phil lightly, however, Techno was quick to clarify.

“I don’t mean anything by it. You can believe in whatever. I mean, are gods even real?”

“Oh come on now, don’t they call you the blood god?”

“Are you trying to provoke me?”

“So what if I am?”

A yawn gave George the perfect leverage to pull Dream up from his chair and put an end to the childish display.

“Thanks so much to the both of you! I’m going to force these two to sleep–” a look shot down Sapnap and Dream’s hurried protest before they came. “–so they can be fully healed tomorrow. Do you need any help to clean?”

“No, it’s fine. They should become a bit drowsy anyways because of the potion so it’s a good idea,” answered Techno.

George put an arm under Sapnap’s and together they wobbled up the stairs. Dream, being injured all over his body, meaning the potion took hold more spread out, was more alert than Sapnap. He helped take away the outer layer of Sapnap’s clothes so that he was left in his undershirt and trousers. George and Dream did the same themselves when Sapnap climbed into bed. Thankfully the only thing of importance they had lost were Dream’s bow, their food, and a waterskin. They had all of the extra clothes and such intact.

“I wanna hear a story, Gogy,” mumbled Sapnap into the pillow. He had turned around to lie on his stomach and made no effort to turn his head. 

“I’ll tell one from the book.” 

“A new one? Like, you’ve never heard it before the book.”

“No.”

“Is there anything you don’t know, my sweet, sweet Gogy?”

George opened his bag to pull out the aforementioned book. He paged through it until he found the page he was looking for, in the meantime Dream had got in under the covers. He cleared his throat while scanning over the page.

“The world was always destined to end,” he began. “The world, just as everything else, ages and grows old. In the end, three long and harrowing years will come. Father will fight against son, brother against brother. All humans' minds have been filled with deceit. Everything evil is let loose, free to roam over the realms and do as it pleases. After these three years of chaos and bloodshed, the Fimbulwinter will come.”

Sapnap finally turned his head. He moved so that his eyes were on George but he had a hard time keeping them open. He would constantly keep them closed for a while, before opening them stubbornly, only for them to fall closed again. George speaking slowly most certainly did nothing to help.

“This winter will also last three years and it will take away summer and all things light. All will suffer in fear in the cold and snow. Storms of ice will plague the lands as those livings will have to seek warmth in vain. Then, the wolves that follow the sun and moon will at last catch their prey. They will devour them. The dragon Nidhogg, chewing at the roots of the world tree Ygdrasil, will chew through the thick roots and the tree will lose stability–” George was swaying slightly, barely aware of it himself. ”–The earth shakes. Cliffs will break, Fenrir will break from his chain, and so will Loki. The Midgard Serpent lets go of its own tail and throws himself around. At that, the seas will storm and the ship of the dead will break from its moorings.”

Sapnap’s eyes were closed. Dream was snoring lightly. George finished the story to an audience of dreaming minds.

“The ship, built out of the nails of dead men, called Naglfar, is steered by a giant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I love writing Techno (because he kind of has my humour) but it's to hard for me to express his tone of voice. My spell check turned itself of while I was writing a huge chink of it so I knew stuff looked wrong but I didn't get the red dots – I was struggling. I wanna thank my lovely beta, Free Grammarly and Google Documents. You guys have been so helpful!
> 
> Also also, we are finally in moving in on the last part of the story! There's some minor angst and stuff left but on the way through the mountains we go. I got some lovely comments last time and I just wanna say thanks to them again. Hopefully I won't be late with the chapter next week!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mayymeow1)


End file.
